When, in 1739, Richardson took his Hammersmith house, he had, notwithstanding his advanced age, done little in literature save the dedications and indexes to which reference has been made. It is probable, however, that, about this time, he was already occupied in editing, for the above-mentioned Society for the Encouragement of Literature, a part of the correspondence of Sir Thomas Roe relating to his embassy to the Ottoman Porte. But it is to 1739 that belongs the book which undoubtedly prompted Pamela, and which-partly from its having fallen into neglect, and partly also from the perhaps intentionally vague way in which he himself speaks of a production his subsequent successes made him willing to forget

has sometimes been confused with Pamela itself. In 1739, two of his particular friends, Mr. Charles Rivington of St. Paul's Churchyard, and Mr. John Osborn of Paternoster Row, invited him to prepare for them "a little volume of Letters, in a common style, on such subjects as might be of use to those country readers, who were unable to indite for themselves. Will it be any harm, said I, in a piece you want to be written so low, if we should instruct them how they should think and act in common cases, as well as indite? They were the more urgent with me to begin the little volume for this hint. I set about it. . . ."

At this point, both for clearness' sake and the avoidance of misconception, it will be well to adopt Richardson's plan of "a short abruption," and go on with the story of the volume initiated by Messrs. Osborn and Rivington. With these model letters, as already stated, originated the idea of Richardson's first novel of Pamela. It is true that they were not

published until a few weeks after Pamela had appeared; but as they undoubtedly preceded that book in conception, and probably in execution, they may legitimately be treated first. They appeared in January 1741 (Pamela having been issued in the preceding November), and their full title is as follows: Letters written to and for particular Friends, on the most important Occasions. Directing not only the requisite Style and Forms to be observed in writing Familiar Letters; but how to think and act justly and prudently, in the common Concerns of Human Life. The title moreover states that the volume contains "One Hundred and Seventy-three Letters, None of which were ever before Published"; and it was "printed for C. Rivington, in St. Paul's Churchyard; J. Osborn, in Pater-noster Row; and J. Leake, at Bath"-this last, no doubt, being Richardson's brother-in-law. The price was two shillings and sixpence, and the Gentleman's Magazine, in which it is advertised, reproduced, at page 34 of its eleventh volume, one of the letters-"Advice to a Friend against going to Law" (No. 144). Mr. Urban gives no hint as to the author, whose "Preface" lays stress upon his having, among other things, devoted exceptional attention to the details of discreet courtship and the disadvantages of ill-considered matrimony. "Orphans, and Ladies of independent Fortunes, he [the compiler] has particularly endeavour'd to guard against the insidious Arts of their flattering and selfish Dependents, and the clandestine Addresses of Fortune-hunters, those Beasts of Prey, as they may well be called, who spread their Snares for the innocent and thoughtless Heart." The management of this final metaphor is not perhaps of the happiest. As we have seen, how

ever, in the case of the "high-spirited volatile lady". who wished to marry the author, the eighteenthcentury fortune-hunter was distinctly a danger to be reckoned with..

But while the affairs of the heart naturally occupy a considerable portion of the Familiar Letters, we should imagine indeed that there can be few complications arising from the undisciplined employment of that organ which are left untreated, — many of these fictitious utterances show clearly that, from his Fleet Street shop, Richardson had looked not unintelligently upon life in general. Indeed, in regard to the question of the law's delays, it might almost be conjectured that he was still smarting under an unfavourable personal experience. Here is the close of his epistle to the would-be litigant: "Then you may be plung'd into the bottomless Gulf of Chancery, where you begin with Bills and Answers, containing Hundreds of Sheets at exorbitant Prices, 15 Lines in a Sheet, and 6 Words in a Line, (and a Stamp to every Sheet) barefacedly so contrived to pick your Pocket: Then follow all the Train of Examinations, Interrogatories, Exceptions, Bills amended, References for Scandal and Impertinence, new Allegations, new Interrogatories, new Exceptions, on Pretence of insufficient Answers, Replies, Rejoinders, Sur-rejoinders, Butters, Rebutters, and Sur-rebutters; till, at last, when you have danc'd thro' this blessed Round of Preparation, the Tryal before the Master of the Rolls comes next; Appeals follow from his Honour to the Chancellor; then from the Chancellor to the House of Lords; and sometimes the Parties are sent from thence for a new Tryal in the Courts below-Good Heavens! What wise Man,

permit me to repeat, would enter himself into this confounding Circle of the Law?"

Here, from another letter, is a "prospect" of contemporary politics, which reminds one of some of the later deliverances of Fielding in the Covent Garden Journal: "For while some are made as black as Devils on one Side, they are made as white as Angels on the other. They never did one good thing, says the Enemy. They never did one bad one, says the Friend. Mean time one Side goes on, accusing without Mercy; the other, acquitting without Shame. "Tis the Business of one Set of Papers to bespatter and throw Dirt; and of the other to follow after them, with a Scrubbingbrush and a Dish-clout: And after all- the one bedaubs so plentifully, and the other wipes off so slovenly, that, let me be hang'd, Bob, if I'd appear on 'Change with the Coat on my Back that a certain great Man stalks about in, without Concern, when these Dawbers and Scowerers have done their worst and their best upon it. But 'tis a great Matter to be used to such a Coat. And a great Happiness, I'll warrant, your Namesake [Sir Robert Walpole] thinks it, that with all this Rubbing and Scrubbing, it does not appear threadbare yet, after twenty Years' Wear, and a hundred People trying to pick Holes in it."

If personal experiences have dictated some of these communications, personal predilections peep out in others. The writer is severe in matters of costume. "I have been particularly offended, let me tell you, my Dear [he writes to a young lady], at your new Riding Habit, which is made so extravagantly in the Mode, that one cannot easily distinguish your Sex by it. For you neither look like a modest Girl in it,

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nor an agreeable Boy. Some conformity to the Fashion is allowable. But a cock'd Hat, a lac'd Jacket, a Fop's Peruke, what strange Metamorphoses do they make!" Elsewhere, he courageously lifts up his voice against the undue "Love of Singing and Musick.” "It may tend," he tells an imaginary correspondent, "for so it naturally does, to enervate the Mind, and make you haunt musical Societies, Operas and Concerts; and what Glory is it to a Gentleman if he were even a fine Performer, that he can strike a String, touch a Key, or sing a Song with the Grace and Command of a hired Musician?" Upon the topic of the Stage he is even less sympathetic. He does not, indeed, like Goldsmith to his brother-in-law, Hodson, brand acting as an abominable resource which neither becomes a man of honour, nor a man of sense," but in the character of a Father whose Son, "reduced by his own Extravagance," wishes to turn player, he writes as follows: "You must consider, that tho' in the gay Trappings of that Employment a Man may represent a Gentleman, yet none can be farther from that Character if a perpetual Dependence be the worst Kind of Servility. In the first Place, the Company will be in a manner obliged to keep, will be such as you will tend little to the Improvement of your Mind, or Amendment of your Morals: To the Master of the Company you list in, you must be obsequious to a Degree of Slavery. Not one of an Audience that is able to hiss,1 but you must fear, and each single Person you come to

1 Cf. Johnson's Man:

Prologue to Goldsmith's Good Natur'd

"This night, our wit, the pert apprentice cries,

Lies at my feet, I hiss him, and he dies."